The Used World (32 page)

There—there was something familiar; the nearness of God, the maddening sensation the Mission had that He was
right there,
and the only thing keeping them from instant and complete unity was sin. And what of you, little Rebekah? A question posed to her in Hazel’s voice. Rebekah
was
the failure, the sin, at least she had become that for her father. But as a girl? She had not understood it—she just thought God was everywhere and it was simple, really. Vernon, the Governance men: they understood the divide.

Amos said, “Later in Matthew, um…13:10–12, we’re told, ‘Then the disciples came and asked him, “Why do you speak to them in parables?” He answered, “To you it has been given to know the secrets of the kingdom of heaven, but to them it has not been given. For to those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance, but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.”’ When Jesus says, ‘To those who have, more will be given,’ He’s talking, I think, about a certain kind of insight, what my father used to call a leading. He’s not suggesting power or privilege, certainly not wealth. If he is, I’ve chosen the wrong profession.” There was polite laughter, a shuffling in the pews. “The kingdom of heaven, the kingdom of God—it’s the cornerstone of Jesus’ ministry, and the subtheme of the entire New Testament. Again, it’s a Judaic concept, but that goes without saying; it’s as if someone talking about Indiana were to remark on what Indiana has in common with America. Remember that the Hebrew people believed that the Messiah would be a king—he would be a person who had harnessed immense political force. So the kingdom of God meant one thing in that context, and it means something different coming from the carpenter from Nazareth. I—” Amos shifted his weight, cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to take any kind of polarizing stand here, but it behooves us, I think, to remember that the ‘Church’ as an entity, the Roman church and many Protestant congregations, still pray for the conversion of the Jews. But Jesus wasn’t appropriate as their Messiah—not according to their scriptures, and certainly not given their condition. He failed them. He failed them in Roman-occupied Palestine; they didn’t need a wandering magician, a powerless, poverty-stricken philosopher; they didn’t need His philosophy. They spoke of one kingdom, and He spoke of another.”

He failed them. Rebekah wanted to hold up her hand and ask Amos to stop, stop, she needed to write this down; she needed a doughnut and a nap. She wanted to think about it for a few days and then they could all get back together and go on with the sermon. He failed them. A chill passed over her arms, across the back of her neck. All that
anger
in the Mission! All the anger in Rebekah, for years. For so long, from the moment He died! the church had been saying He was coming soon, He was coming for those who knew the Way, the Truth, and the Life. But where was He? If only she had the guts to walk up to her father, even to call him on the telephone and say,
Daddy? Maybe He failed you.

“We’ve talked before about the shift between the First and Second Testaments from the historical to the metaphorical; from the Law to the Spirit. The Hebrews sacrificed animals, the Christian community believed Jesus’ sacrifice was the final one necessary. So, too, with the kingdom of God. For the Jews, God seems to have been as present, as real, as anything else in creation. To paraphrase Martin Buber”—a number of people laughed aloud, as if Amos paraphrased Martin Buber with some frequency—“there was a time when God spoke; it seems He speaks no more. God spoke
directly
to Noah, to Moses, to Abraham. The kingdom of God
was
Egypt, it was Babylon and Zion, the desert, because it was the covenant God had made with the Chosen People; a living, active, demanding deity. But by the age of the Synoptic Gospels, the King was silent; His emissary had been sent and killed; and the kingdom in question had become the stuff of parables. In Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, God speaks
through
Jesus, Who is speaking through the writers of the books, and we are receiving them in translation from the language of the occupiers in which they were written. And now we are told that the Kingdom of Heaven is near, that it’s here, that it’s coming, all at the same time. I wish I knew what that meant.”

Rebekah sighed. Poor Vernon. Amos was right, and simply so: God spoke, God stopped speaking; except, of course, in the little drywalled box that held the Prophetic Mission, where the cruel, the stupid, the kind and good alike believed that they were the conduits for the direct revelation of Yahweh. And the kingdom of heaven…she closed her eyes and could see the phrase standing like a sentry in the Old Testament, then sailing through the New as if on wings. It is near, it is here, it is coming soon. Her King James Bible—purchased for her at birth and with her name inscribed on the cover—printed the words of Jesus in red, and Rebekah could see herself lying in bed at night in her white gown, skipping everything but that red text. She had been told that she loved Him. She had been given no choice but to love Him, and so she had, with her eyes and her hands and her mind. What
He
said—His words, not the words of the apostles, not their acts or their demands—what He said sometimes rose right up out of the onionskin pages, not like speech but like a thing; what He said rose up with mass and definition, and if she didn’t stare directly at it, if she turned away just slightly and concerned herself with the moon, the dusty valence over the window, she could feel something touch her in the hollow of her throat.

“The Kingdom,” Amos continued, polishing the lenses of his glasses with a handkerchief, “is, for some, the Church. The Church is the kingdom of heaven and the world is not, and the Church becomes the status quo. Everything Jesus said, everything in the biblical tradition, is then used to uphold the status quo, because that’s what it means to enter the kingdom. But when the Kingdom is seen as transcendent, or beyond the Church, there is a call to revolution, in defiance of old customs and conventions. That’s where we get the Jesus I find more attractive: the radical overturning the money changers’ tables, the man who, in fact, turned everything upside down, the Jesus Who is not on the side of any empire or principality, but Who is concerned with outsiders and sinners and the sick.”

Oliver sighed, squirmed, went back to sleep.

“I think,” Amos said, putting on his glasses and taking a deep breath, “not that you’ve exactly asked me what I think, but I believe that the Jesus we have come to know spoke in parables because there is no other psychically adequate way to address the human condition, and that while it seems that what Jesus is saying is that the Kingdom is like a naked singularity, a trick of physics, it’s equally possible He’s saying you have to choose. What you choose determines the life you live, quite simply. If the Kingdom of Heaven is here now, and that requires from you a fearful clinging to the status quo, then that’s who you are and what your life meant. If it’s ahead somewhere, and out of reach in this lifetime, you will spend your days accordingly. For me—I speak only for myself now—the Ineffable, the Eternal, the Kingdom of Heaven seems to be inbreaking in our lives all the time, every day. I think it’s here, just beside us, and if we turn our heads we’ll enter in. I think all kinds of people, especially dogs and Buddhists, have gone in ahead of us, but there’s always another chance. The Kingdom of God is a door perpetually opening, and it makes me, as dear Emerson said, ‘glad to the brink of fear.’”

Rebekah blinked, tearful. She knew what he meant. She had been that glad.

Amos closed his Bible, centered it on the podium. “You must be tired of me saying it, but God is Love, and the doorway is Love, and the Kingdom of Heaven is Love. And not
because
of the birth of Jesus, but it’s one of the things He was born for. So. Merry Christmas, all of you, and may your new year be, as they say, bright.”

They stood, and were instantly surrounded by people who took Rebekah’s hand and told her their names and wished her a happy holiday, and again and again she heard Claudia say,
This is my baby,
including to Amos, who cupped Oliver’s head in his palm and shared a look with Claudia that was intimate, a benediction.

“It’s about time,” Millie said, getting out of her car.

Claudia closed the door to the Jeep, took a deep breath. The weather was lovely, it was Christmas. She remembered a time when she would have come home from church alone, looking forward to lunch, and there would not have been a chance in the world that Millie would be lying in wait.

“I haven’t seen you for so
long.
” Millie reached into Claudia’s backseat and began unfastening Oliver’s car seat, all but pushing Rebekah away.

“We saw you
yesterday,
” Claudia said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice.

“You didn’t see me today.”

“It’s true,” Rebekah said, nodding. “We haven’t seen her yet today.”

“I stopped on the way home from here last night, the Wal-Mart was open late, and got Oliver some new clothes and shoes. McDonald’s is making baby clothes now and they are just totally precious.”

Claudia started toward the front door, stopped. “God in heaven.”

“What? What did I say?”

“McDonald’s baby clothes? What, are they dipped in lard? Addictive?”

Millie opened the back of the Explorer, took out a large plastic bag. “You always did have a critical spirit, Claudia.”

“I don’t think criticizing a fast food empire is a reflection of my spirit, Millie.”

“Do you want to have lunch with us?” Rebekah asked, opening the front door.

“Besides,” Millie said, unbuttoning her coat, “what’s so wrong with McDonald’s? I practically raised my children on that food and look at them. Neither one is an ounce overweight. It’s
protein,
Claudia, and
potatoes.
They weren’t given little cigarettes with their Happy Meals.”

“We could stay here or we could go out. I think the cafeteria at the mall is open today. Do you want some iced tea, Millie?”

“And everyone’s always going on about working conditions, I hear that all the time on the news, about working conditions at McDonald’s and Wal-Mart. You tell me where the black people are supposed to work if we closed down all the McDonald’s like the hippies and the save-the-planet people would have us to do? Last summer Brandon had a job at that local hardware store, couldn’t hardly get any hours. If there were extras they went to the owner or his son. But next summer Brandon’s going to work at Wal-Mart and his schedule will be his schedule, no questions asked. And again I ask you, what about the black people. We have to put them somewhere.”

“I could heat up the chicken and dumplings we had last night, or we could go to MCL.”

Millie began taking clothes out of the bag, stacking them up expertly on the couch, and removing their tags with a pocketknife. “Who drives a white car?”

Claudia closed the door to the coat closet, turned and looked at Millie. “No one I can think of. Why do you ask?”

“I’m going to go change Oliver,” Rebekah said. “Decide about lunch while I’m gone.”

“There was a white car in the driveway when I got here,” Millie said, gathering up the little plastic T shapes she’d cut off the tags.

“Who was driving it?”

“I’d rather go to MCL, personally. Rebekah is a great cook and all, but chicken and dumplings sounds a little heavy to me. I’d like to have some Jell-O salad.”

“Millie,” Claudia said, sitting down next to her on the couch. “Who was driving the car?”

“Well, I don’t know, it was in your driveway, and also as I got out of my car and started to walk up to it, they drove away. Whoever it was.”

“Claudia?” Rebekah called down the stairs. “See who’s pulling into the driveway.”

I am beset, Claudia thought as she opened the front door.

“Oh great, it’s Hazel,” Millie said.

“Who is it?” Rebekah called.

“It’s Hazel,” Claudia yelled back.

“She has a
dog
with her,” Millie said.

“She has a dog with her,” Claudia yelled up the stairs. She watched as Hazel struggled with a blur on the end of the leash. It leapt from the front seat to the back and forward again, then tried to jump out the open door.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll strangle it to death right here before our eyes,” Millie said, leaning closer to the window. “You should tell her not to bring it in; Mom would never allow animals in the house.”

“It’s you who won’t allow animals in the house, don’t blame it on Mom. You might remember Jumpin’ Bean.”

“How could I forget, it was always Jumpin’ Bean this and Jumpin’ Bean that.”

“Good Lord, Millie.”

“Well, excuse me, but a, fleas, b, filth, c, animals. They belong outside.”

Rebekah came down the steps with Oliver, who’d been polished and fluffed and didn’t seem nearly so angry as he’d been by the end of the drive home. “I thought you said Hazel was here.”

“She’s struggling with a dog out by her car,” Claudia said, watching Hazel.

“A dog, huh? Here, take him.” Rebekah handed Oliver to Claudia, who handed him to Millie, and walked out the door toward the conflagration of animal and puffy coat. Claudia watched her, surprised again by Rebekah’s ease. Claudia herself had stood there pondering the situation, but Rebekah just strode right out and set to taming all the savage beasts. “But
why
does she have a dog, I wonder,” Claudia said.